LANDRY
Reading 'Bend, Sinister' by
Nabokov again, I got lost in
a reverie of time : dormancy
keeps those ides in mind, until
something makes them fresh
again. Like Ithaca, 1972, all
that reappears is vivid anew.
-
Cayuga and Taughannock,
every mother's son. The hill
that runs to the downtown,
two thousand feet long.
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